Page 100 of Stroked Hard
She shakes her head in amusement. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” Changing the subject, she asks, “Are you excited to go to Rio?”
“I’m excited to see you in a bikini on the beaches in Rio. There are topless beaches there. I’ll go topless if you go topless.”
She laughs, that fucking sweet-as-hell sound. “You’re always topless.”
I shrug, “I’m a bit of a whore like that. Glad you don’t leave me for my provocative nature.”
“You should be glad I don’t leave you for being a smart-ass.”
“What?” I feign horror. “And here I thought women like smart men. Well there goes that college education down the drain. Thanks, society, for steering me wrong.”
“Do you always have a comeback stored up in you?”
“I always have come stored up in me, yes. Want to help me get rid of some of it?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
“I can’t stand you.” She laughs as I grab her waist and place her on my lap. Taking both of our pizzas, I set them on the coffee table in front of me.
She’s straddling my lap, her humor-filled eyes beating down on me, her tank top loose and billowing away from her chest, giving me an amazing view of her breasts.
“You know, you shouldn’t say hurtful things to the man that delivers such powerful orgasms you cry for hours afterward.”
“I don’t cry,” she counters.
“Oh, then it must have been your pussy weeping.”
“Yeah, because she hates having to fake the fact that your cock just isn’t big enough for her.” Mouthy, I like it.
“Baby, if you’re faking it, I will go over to Meryl Streep’s house right now and steal one of her Oscars for you, because that is some award-winning performance.”
She starts to get off me. “Better get going. I would like the Oscar she won for Sophie’s Choice.”
“Fuck that.” I pull her back on my lap and grip her hips. “I guess I’ll just have to fuck you better.”
Her eyes light up with intrigue. I know for a fucking fact she’s not faking it, but if she wants to play this game, I have no problem making her little lie a living nightmare.
Let’s play a little game called edging.
Holding her close to me, I lift both of us off the couch and work my way back to her bedroom while she giggles into my ear from the kisses I’m peppering on her neck. This woman was so closed off, so anti everything I’ve been living my life for, and for once, I see the lightness in her features. It’s refreshing, heart-warming, fucking fantastic.
When we get to her bedroom, I toss her on the bed and take no time getting rid of my shirt. My muscles flex for her as I drop my shirt to the floor. Her eyes roam my body, her tongue wetting her lips in the most delicious way possible.
“Take your shirt off, baby.” Following directions, she does as asked. “Your shorts too, I want to see you completely naked.” I don’t even have to ask her to remove her underwear because I know she’s not wearing any.
Once she’s naked, I slip my phone out of my pocket, go to my Spotify app and select the perfect song for what I have planned.
Not pressing play yet, I set my phone on her nightstand and walk over to her little desk where I take the chair and put it in the middle of the room.
“Are you expecting a lap dance?” she asks, her voice a playful sneer.
“No.” I point at the chair. “Sit.”
“What are you going to do to me?” She crosses her arms over her chest, hiding her breasts.
Her defiant attitude is not appreciated at the moment. “Sit in the chair, Melony,” I say with a forceful voice. Her eyebrows lift in surprise, yet to my shock, she listens. Note to self, she pays attention to my commanding-Hollis voice.
“Keep your legs closed, I don’t want to see that pussy until I’m ready.”
Turning my back to her, I let me shorts ride low on my hips, knowing fully well I’m not wearing underwear either, and with the press of the button, a remix ofPonyby Ginuwine starts to play.
